


This is a Party Town

by Anonymous



Series: Snowy/Kent [7]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, D/s-verse, M/M, Past Abuse, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 05:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15550404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Of course Guy comes along when Snowy asks him to. Who else is going to have his back while he tries to sort out the mess with Parson?Or, Guy and Snowy's crappy time in Vegas.





	This is a Party Town

**Author's Note:**

> Set at the end of the season that Kent is discovered.

Guy hadn't been one of the Falconers openly grumbling about Snowy getting them involved in the Aces-Parson mess, but he hadn't thought it was the smartest idea, exactly. Not just for Snowy, but for Parson, considering the distance and the stress of juggling that, and that was before he added the press and the scandal and the rocky shape Parson was in. He'd guessed Snowy hadn't slept at all on the flight over, and suspected that Snowy hadn't been sleeping too great before that, as Parson tried not to melt down over video chat. 

He couldn't blame Snowy for worrying, though. Parson looked rough. Tired and shaky once he was off the ice. Burning through his reserves to get through the tail end of the season, and making the fumes go further than they had any right to. 

He was tough, at least, Guy thought. At least there was that. 

Snowy, though, was a soft touch under the cool, unaffected attitude, or he wouldn't be flying them both out to Vegas practically before the sweat had cooled on their last-game jerseys. He had tickets practically the second he was off the ice and had gotten a _sure, I'll go_ out of Guy.

The Vegas game was still going when they'd touched down, which had led to Snowy waffling about whether to pick Parson up or meet him at his apartment. The apartment won. Partly because they weren't sure they could find and get to Parson without media interference, partly because there was the chance they'd miss each other going in opposite directions with the game so close to over, but largely because Guy insisted on Snowy not dragging them both all over Vegas in exhausted panic when it was a matter of maybe a couple hours before Parson was delivered back to his place by someone from the Aces office who might or might not double as security.

That was kind of awful. Guy saw the reasoning in it, since the Aces were still weeding out who to assign blame to, and it would look even worse for them if something happened to Parson in the meantime, but he was a sub who was used to a lot of dom contact. The caution might be better than taking chances, but the isolation side effect sure as hell wasn't great for Parson, who'd folded right up against Snowy as soon as he was in the door and saw them, too quiet and already half-down.

Maybe-security didn't say anything about it, but he handed over takeout that they'd picked up on the way over. That meant Parson wasn't really feeding himself, which wasn't a s surprise. Parson seemed to have narrowed his functioning down to hockey-sleep-hockey, judging by what Guy overheard on Snowy's chats with him. He couldn't blame Maybe-security for looking relieved as hell to see them, especially since the Aces couldn't find someone to take care of Parson now that he was collared. Not without Snowy signing off on it, and Guy more than suspected Snowy would have busted something at just the suggestion, no matter how reasonable it was.

At least, reasonable as an option. It was also likely that someone else deciding who got to touch Parson and put him under was the last thing he needed. Guy didn't really like to think about what Parson might accept and why. He didn't think Snowy wanted to consider it too closely either, even if it was hard not to, when Parson showed up clearly just wanting to get on his knees.

He hadn't come up after it, either. That could be exhaustion, or it could be normal for Parson, but it made him seem very young, to drift from subspace into sleep like that, without brakes. Some dom should have taught him, if he hadn't figured it out on his own after a certain point, and clearly no one had. Maybe his team had liked that Parson didn't have a good grip on it. Maybe they'd even taught him to be like that. He wouldn't be the first sub some asshole had trained to think giving up control was the same as not having any to begin with.

Snowy was getting in over his head. Guy knew he'd always had a little thing about Parson. The flirting around the goal was hard to miss, for anyone who knew Snowy. Also anyone who'd heard Snowy talk about his time on the Aces. Guy had thought that the gaps in those stories were the spaces where more than flirtation had happened, and he'd been sort of right, but it was also where Snowy was leaving out the team-held secret of Kent Parson being a sub.

Guy sighed and went to poke at the takeout, Parson's cat agitating around his ankles. The food was still mostly untouched because Snowy had fallen asleep minutes after Parson had, the two of them curled together on the couch, and the cat seemed mostly unfed. Or making a good show of it, anyway. There was still kibble in the bowl in the corner of the kitchen, but Guy hunted around anyway, until he found a can to open for her and a bottle to open for himself. Parson had a decent stock of snacks and booze, at least. As team captain, he probably had the team over a bunch.

There was probably a whole can of worms there that was better left unpacked.

Someone made a noise out in the living room, so Guy rinsed and got rid of the cat food can, then retrieved his drink and went to take a look in case Snowy was up and wanted an eye on Parson while he went to wash the airplane smell off himself. Guy had showered after Parson's arrival, but Snowy had been understandably distracted, and then understandably zonked out.

Snowy was still out, snoring with his mouth slack and hanging open in the undignified way he'd had as an over-tired rookie, wedged between the couch cushions and Parson, who was sitting up and looking bleary. His hair had still been damp from the after-game showers, and sleeping on it had shoved it up on one side as it dried, making it stand in a messy, lopsided crest that Guy couldn't help but smile at.

"Hey."

Parson made a grumpy, muzzy sound in response. He looked a little disoriented still. Guy couldn't tell if the calm response was because Parson remembered that he and Snowy were there, or because Parson didn't know where he was yet. 

"I fed your cat," Guy told him, in case that would help him get his bearings. "Sorry if I wasn't supposed to, but she insisted she was starving." 

Parson snorted. That was good. That meant he was at least a little bit present, even if he also looked like someone had fished him out of a gutter, then run over him for good measure.

"So I'm a sucker." Guy shrugged. "You want to eat something?" He waited while Parson thought about it, then nodded back towards the kitchen. "Come on. Don't wake up Snowy."

"I'm not." That was a little sulky. Guy could see the beginnings of a pout it in the corners of his mouth, just enough of a downturn to look offended, not enough to _be_ an offense. Pushing the line for sure. If Parson was his and not halfway to falling apart, Guy would call him on it. Also if they weren't in Parson's home, where Guy had no right to boss him, bratty petulance or no.

"Come on," he repeated, when Parson didn't move, sitting with his knees drawn up and Snowy curled around him, taking advantage of the space Parson had cleared. "You just have to sit, chew, and swallow."

Parson scrubbed the heel of a hand against his face. Guy let him take his time. He didn't know Parson well enough to push, just from going with Snowy once or twice to hang with the Aces after games or events. Have a drink or two before he left Snowy to his own devices. He hadn't noticed anything odd about Parson, other than him being a bit low key for a dom. Not _quiet_ , but just going with things in an easy way that made him seem fun and charming.

He was going to go with things now, Guy could tell. Parson wasn't exuding sub resistance so much as just a sleepy lag that could mean he wasn't all the way back just yet He'd probably follow firmer direction, if Guy tried it, but it seemed better to let him sort himself out. Come up enough to make the decision for himself.

"Snowy's not going anywhere," Guy said, when Parson's attention shifted down to him, face oddly blank behind the lingering hint of a frown. Still processing on extra slow. Part of that might be low blood sugar, if he hadn't eaten since before the game. "He might as well be dead, when he's snoring like that."

"Yeah." Parson didn't move to touch him, but he didn't lift his head either, still looking down at Snowy like he didn't really understand what Snowy was doing there.

He wasn't going to make it through playoffs, which meant the Aces weren't going to make it through playoffs. Parson was playing alright, but there was no way in hell he was _captaining_ alright, and that meant someone else was handling the Aces and just pointing Parson in the right direction and giving him a push. They shouldn't be letting him on the ice like that, but with the season running long and the team in the spotlight, the Aces couldn't take him off either. Not without inviting another round of questions and rumor. Guy wasn't sure Parson could take that either. He seemed to be on a pretty thin string as it was.

Parson heaved a breath, then leaned his forehead against his hands, hunching with his elbows on his knees. If it was anyone else, Guy would go over and see what he could do--put a hand on the back of Parson's neck, maybe, or in his hair--but he wasn't sure if doms taking liberties was what was called for, exactly. And Snowy was there. Out cold, but close by, and wrapped possessively around Parson in a way that was slowly pushing him towards the edge of the cushions.

"They're bothering Jack, aren't they?" Parson asked finally, without lifting his head. Guy hadn't thought about that possibility, but he remembered the rumor mill cranking out all kinds of theories about them. Zimmermann was a sub, awkward and quiet with his daddy to pay hush money; Parson was some kind of dom teen escort, hired to help Jack Zimmermann succeed at hockey; they were both just drug addicts, and their closeness born out of the joint cover-up. Then a bunch more off-the-wall stuff that Guy wasn't sure he remembered right. He hadn't asked Zimmermann if the press was hounding him with all that again, and Zimmermann hadn't said. Guy had been distracted by the upheaval around Snowy, and the way _ex-Aces goalie reclaims Parson_ and _former Ace keeps sub in-house_ had been making steam come out his ears.

"I don't know. He seems to be handling it if they are."

"I turned off my phone."

"Yeah." Guy knew he'd done that. Snowy had been worried enough to harass Carly over it, insisting on updates if anything happened, even though Carly was a dubious source of information at the best of times and even worse when he was wound up, which was pretty often. "Next time let Snowy know if you're going silent, though, would you?"

Parson nodded, but in absent, automatic obedience. He was clearly still thinking about something else, not lifting his head from his hands.

"I didn't know if I should call him," he said, finally. "Usually--" That cut off and Parson went back to quietly stewing, then went on with, "Maybe if I could have warned him, but it got picked up so fast."

"Parson--Kent. You need to come eat something, alright? Or you can stay there and I'll bring you a plate." And if Snowy woke up, then he could eat too, and move to an actual bed. Guy swirled his glass, then tipped it at Parson. "And I need a refill, so what do you say?"

"I'm sorry you had to come out here. I don't even--"

"Know me?" It wasn't like they were strangers, either. He and Parson were at least friendly acquaintances. Guy shrugged it off. "Snowy knows me. He was my rookie before he went to the Aces like a traitor."

That made Parson look up, but he registered Guy's smile and relaxed. He was kind of tight strung, for Parson, even if he seemed less naturally laid back at the moment and more bruised into compliance. "Yeah. Still. Providence is thrilled, I bet."

Guy made a noncommittal noise. Providence was getting a ton of positive publicity out of looking like the good guys, which to the front office was probably worth the hassle of Snowy getting hounded. "I'm not here for Providence."

Parson nodded again, accepting that the same way he'd been accepting everything Guy said, even if he still hadn't moved to follow direction. Agreeable but not obedient, Guy thought. That was fine. It was Snowy's business anyway. Parson was only wearing a collar off and on, but that was as good as having a hands-off sign hung around his neck, even if Parson didn't act like he realized it. Guy doubted the Aces would have had a lot of patience for the foot dragging, and something about Parson seemed tense, like he was quietly testing how far he could push it.

Guy wasn't a big fan of being poked by subs. He liked them well-behaved and forthcoming. Parson wasn't either of those, and in more normal circumstances the pushing and reticence would get on his nerves pretty quick. He didn't think Parson needed to be over someone's knee, though, as much as he also seemed to be trying to make that happen.

"Kitchen," Guy repeated, making it an order, then softened it immediately with, "Before that cat gets on the counter and sticks her feet in everything."

It didn't get a laugh, but Parson nodded again, and after another second lifted his head. 

"There you are. Good boy." Probably, that was over a line, but Snowy wasn't likely to mind, and Parson looked like he needed something to get him going. "Let's go now, okay?" 

"Yeah." 

It took him another half minute to actually move, but then he came over and let Guy wrap a hand around the back of his neck, using the grip to steer Parson where he wanted him, to one of the chairs at the small kitchen table. It was tucked out of the way. Cozy and scattered with Parson's day-to-day junk. A phone dock, the odd sports magazine, pens and sticky notes, a clip-on reflector for running, the printed insert from a CD. Parson frowned as he took a seat, then looked up at Guy, obviously off balance. 

"If someone's going to warm your ass, it's going to be Snowy," Guy told him, with a little pat for emphasis before he moved away to put food on a plate, heating it in the microwave for expedience. "You could probably ask him to if you wanted," he added, as the numbers ran down on the timer. 

Parson made a face and ducked his head, just a bit too late to hide the expression. 

" _If_ you wanted. You're not in trouble here, Kent."

"Yeah?" Parson didn't look at him.

He'd been listening to the news. Or at least, hearing the discussion. Guy wasn't surprised, it wasn't exactly easy to get away from, and he wasn't even the focus of it all. Parson probably didn't even have to tune an ear to it to get a headful of, _now the league has to deal with a sub who's been lying and keeping secrets for years_ , and, _you could start paddling Parson's ass during the next commercial break and never get to the end of the infractions_.

"Yeah."

The microwave beeped, giving Guy an excuse to turn away and give Parson space while he rummaged for silverware. The food smelled delicious, heated up. Way better than it had when Guy had been picking at it cold. The packaging was plain, with only some stickers to hold the boxes shut and identify the place, but Guy recognized the logo from some joint he'd gone to with Snowy a couple of times, and that Snowy probably knew from his time in Vegas, which made it likely that Snowy liked the place because Parson liked the place.

The team knew Parson's long-time favorites, that meant, and were making an effort to take care of him. Or the office was. With for-games-only contact restrictions in place, it was hard to tell who in Vegas was and wasn't on Parson's side. Carly was vaguely on Snowy's side and on the side of his own personal, professional interest in continuing to win games, but beyond that Guy had no idea. He wasn't sure Snowy did either. They had a lot to sort out before the next season and the current one wasn't even over yet.

"Eat," Guy said, setting the plate in front of Parson and a fork next to it. "Before Snowy comes and steals it from you." He hesitated, then stroked his hand down the back of Parson's head, in a quick pat. Matter of fact the way he'd handle any sub he was expecting obedience from, taking compliance as a given and offering praise in advance.

Parson twitched at it, looking surprised, eyes large and then suspicious, but before Guy had to do anything about it, Snowy shuffled in, hair a mess and followed by the cat. He looked like he needed a bed as much as Parson did. 

"I saved you a meatball," Guy told him, nodding towards the fridge, where he'd shoved what was left of the food. "Tell your sub to put some noodles in his mouth and chew."

Snowy took the fork out of Parson's hand and stole off his plate instead, made an appreciative sound, then gestured across the kitchen with it. "I think your cat might be starving, Parser." 

Parson ignored the way she was stalking along the cabinets, rubbing her cheek on the corners and making insistent, pleading noises. "She's eaten twice."

"She duped me," Guy explained. Snowy pushed the fork back into Parson's hand and patted him between the shoulder blades, then re-crossed the kitchen to check out the leftovers. He came back with a spoon and a box, shoveling the contents into his mouth cold while Parson poked at his food.

"Scrappy keeps feeding her stuff," he said, "and now she won't stop begging till she wins."

Snowy nudged him, and Parson finally took a bite, then seemed to find his appetite and went quiet, eating without more prompting. An improvement, but also a worrisome one. He seemed to be pretty far into his own head. Maybe he did need Snowy to put him through some paces. Maybe give him a few swats. Whatever Parson preferred to level him out.

Other than put him on the ice. Guy had caught parts of the last couple Aces games, and there Parson seemed fine. Carried by the adrenaline and the atmosphere and maybe the structure of having a coach to bark plays at him. Guy didn't doubt they'd get a more perked up Kent Parson the second they put him on skates, but he also didn't doubt they'd be right back to flirting with sub drop after.

"How many days till you play again? Two? Three?" 

It took Parson a second to realize Guy was talking to him and not Snowy. "Three."

That was more leeway than Guy had expected. There'd be a couple practices crammed in there, but they could work with three, and with a collar on Parson, Snowy had the clout to maybe get in and talk to someone about what the hell they thought they were doing with his sub. He wasn't worried about the Aces cutting Parson loose, even with the added hassle of Falconer goalie interference. There were too many teams ready to snap him up if they did, with their PR poised to spin it in ways the Aces probably wouldn't like, and with the Falconers so solidly in the picture, the spectre of a more mature Parson-Zimmermann line was looming large in the coverage. That was a hell of a safety net, even if Guy more than suspected that getting the two of them together for an extended time would be a disaster on both sides, at least for the immediate future.

Parson was back to playing with his food, pushing noodles around but not picking any up. After a few seconds, his gaze flicked up to Guy, then across to Snowy. Clearly trying to read something about the situation, but Guy wasn't sure what. Nothing had been happening outside of Snowy eating cold takeout like a lout. He was reminding Guy a lot of that first season, when he'd been staying in Guy's spare room and eating straight out of the icebox with the door standing open.

That was usually a sign of Snowy being over tired. He'd turned out be kind of fussy, when he was rested enough to be himself. Guy needed to find a bed too. A game, a long flight and then dealing with Parson in quick succession was making him feel a lot more like the old-timer Tater kept accusing him of being than he usually did.

"I'm taking that guest room," Guy announced, gesturing vaguely, and only announcing the obvious because it felt less like he thought he had staying-over rights just because he knew Parson's dom.

Parson scraped his fork over some sauce, done eating, but not sure if he should be done making a show of it. "If you need anything, I can--you know. Do whatever."

Guy had no idea what that was an offer of. "I don't need you to do anything but get Snowy to bed. That okay?" 

Parson looked up. He didn't look dopey over Snowy, exactly, but something in his face relaxed, and the set of his shoulders seemed to loosen. Guy tried not to wonder what he'd thought Guy had been there for, other than to be backup and make sure Snowy didn't get himself caught up in Vegas shit, when he probably had Providence shit waiting to suck him in as soon as he got back.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's okay." Parson put his fork down, and pushed the plate away, like Guy leaving was a cue to finish up. He was good at following orders, and at seeing them even if Guy hadn't meant it that way. It wasn’t really good sub behavior, trying to keep a step ahead like that, reacting to directions he was assuming but that hadn't been given. At the same time, Parson was the only one acting like orders were even in play.

Guy reached over to pat his shoulder. "Good. I'll see you boys in the morning, then."

Snowy tossed his now-empty takeout box in the trash and his fork in the sink and stretched. He looked more relaxed, with food in him and after a couple hours of sleep, even though he was also pretty rumpled. "Yeah. Thanks for coming along, Guy." He jerked his chin a little in Parson's direction. "And for--"

"Sure. Anytime."

Snowy smiled, but Guy waved goodnight to cut off whatever he was about to say, and left him and Parson to finish up and get themselves to bed. Maybe to talk. They'd have to figure out what to do if the Aces got any further into playoffs. Guy hoped they wouldn't. He didn't usually root against teams that weren't actually up against his own, but maybe this counted, in a way.

The cat came along as Guy got into bed, to tuck herself behind his legs and make it hard for him to turn over without jostling her, then, as soon as he'd found a comfortable position, abandoned him to pad back into the apartment. He wondered if Snowy'd realized yet that they'd have to bring it back with them to Providence.


End file.
